


The Sun Sets Red

by thatdamnedrogue



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, mention of Sora, mention of axel, mention of hayner, mention of olette, mention of pence, mention of xion, neither by name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 10:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamnedrogue/pseuds/thatdamnedrogue
Summary: set just before Day 1 for KH2, Roxas - a teenager facing the last week of his summer break in Twilight Town- finds himself seeking solace atop the clocktower in the middle of the night.





	The Sun Sets Red

Sitting atop the clocktower, something familiar tugs at his chest. He can almost remember being there with someone else (no,  _ two _ )-- but something argues against that. Because that can’t be right. Because he’s always been here, with the friends he has now-  _ But _ , comes the argument,  _ I have memories from someone else. So isn’t it possible _ ? Yes, he conceded, it is possible. It’s possible that maybe this place is more than just where he hangs out with Pence, Hayner, and Olette.  _ It is _ , soft insistence from within his chest, and Roxas puts his hand over his heart. 

Something is missing. He glances, first, to his right, then to his left- there are two things missing. Two people. Who? Trying to pull at the memory makes his head hurt, and he finds himself laying backwards- what brought him up here anyway? It’s the dead of night, stars twinkle up above the clock tower and leave him breathless.  _ There’s more out there _ . The realization comes crashing down like a wave and Roxas does not dare move from were his back is flat against the stone making up the walkway above the clock, his legs hanging over the edge. 

_ There’s more out there _ . 

Roxas exhales slowly. It’s just a sleepy notion, isn’t it? A fleeting thought as he stares at the stars above him, glistening against the deep blue velvet of the sky. But he thinks of the strange dreams he’s been having, and suddenly feels uncertainty blossoming in his stomach. A tremor runs through him, motivating him to bring his hands up, arms folding as he rubs his palms against bare skin, trying to warm up. He’s suddenly cold, chilled to the bone, but cannot seem to convince himself to sit up. 

A new feeling grips him, and he doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s like a flash of lightning- bright and intense, unmistakable as it consumes his vision, but gone as quickly as it came. The blond is left breathless for a second time beneath the vast night sky. He knows he needs to go home, he can feel a sort of exhaustion that’s bone deep, though the cause of such a feeling is unknown. Beneath him, all around him, the clock tower chimes another hour. 

_ Bet you don’t know why the sun sets red _ . 

It’s odd, what things the mind dredges in the depths of the night. There are none to bear witness, none to behold the truths whispered into the darkness, the lies stolen away with the light’s diminishing. And there is no one to hear the noise that escapes him, something akin to a gasp but more astonished. Roxas sits up-- fast, too fast; he feels dizzy for a moment, but he can swear he heard that as clear as day. There is no one else up on the tower with him. The only sound is the ticking of the clock after the toll died away. But that phrase, it was loud as though it was spoken just to the right of him. 

Roxas does not know what is happening to him. 

_ Well for your information, I worry about you all the time _ . 

This is not like the dreams. These things, these phrases on the wind, spoken as though right beside him, these are real. They feel--  _ real _ , far more so than… than anything in his life currently, and that scares him. If words spoken from unseen lips, by voices that make both his head and heart hurt, feel more real than the stone under his fingers… Something is wrong. Roxas lays back down, hands over his ears, and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to focus on yesterday’s events: the clocktower with Hayner, Pence, and Olette. Eating ice cream ( _ was it with them I first tried it _ ? He’s getting distracted-). Practicing for the Struggle Tournament with Hayner. Making faces at Seifer when he tries to heckle them. Pence and Olette trying to encourage Roxas and Hayner  _ not _ to fight with Seifer ( _ he’s easy to beat _ -)-- the stone under his back, it’s cold and he knows what  _ cold _ is. Cold is real. 

This is real. 

He is real. ( _ Are you _ ?) 

Roxas exhales through his mouth, slow and steady. The panic that was building begins to fade with each release of breath, and he allows his hands to slip from his ears to rest upon the smooth surface of the walkway. But the fear does not fully relent- he does not open his eyes. He remembers him and Hayner playfully competing against one another in everything. Skateboarding down from Station Plaza. Taking the train to the beach- ( _ no, we haven’t been this summer, but we said we would go, on our next-- _ ) 

That isn’t right either. 

He doesn’t like this feeling of uncertainty that dogs his every thought now. All it took were two phrases, the wind playing tricks ( _ you don’t believe that _ ) under the watchful stars. Roxas feels like something is beginning; who’s to say if it’s good or bad? Or maybe neither, maybe whatever is starting is going to be- ( _ whatever you make of it _ .) 

His movements are almost sluggish when he sits up again, and the clock is chiming another hour. He’s been up there for an hour. The back of his hand stifles a yawn, before Roxas stretches his arms upward. Absently, he recalls a dream about another clock tower, though it was different and somewhere else, and he was flying in that dream, wasn’t he? A small smile comes to his face at the thought- a dream indeed. Palms rest on either side, braced against the stone he sat on. 

There is the knowledge that he should head home lingering in the back of his mind. It’s cold atop the tower, but the view is breathtaking. He’s always loved that view, no matter how many times he sees it- he thinks this tower has had its share of secrets spoken on it, it has witnessed so many things… It is here that he realizes just how tired he must be: he wonders what the clocktower would say if it could speak. 

“Okay. That’s time to go home.” He says it out loud, though there’s no one else but him there, and gets to his feet, careful to step away from the edge. He would be lying if he said he didn’t fear falling from it one day. The trek back to the bottom of the building is quiet and uneventful, but the moment he’s descended the stairs into the plaza, he’s overcome again. 

Something happened here, in front of the tower, that hurts him. His mind can’t reach the memory as to  _ what _ , which is just as well because Roxas does  _ not _ want to know- tears sprang to his eyes and escaped without warning, and he decides that he’s better off not knowing what leaves him crying, sinking to his knees with his head in his hands. It takes a few minutes for the pain to pass, for the iron vice grip on his heart to relinquish its hold, and even then, Roxas feels himself gasping for some semblance of normality. 

He tells himself he must just be tired, his mind must be playing tricks on him ( _ you know better _ ). When he finds the strength to stand, Roxas  _ runs _ . He runs home and does not look back, not for a moment- if what he feels is real, if what he’s lost is haunting him… Roxas doesn’t know how to handle it. Hands trembled as he locks the door to his tiny apartment- his sanctuary, paid for by his parents so he can live on his own (... _ wasn’t it _ ?). 

Doubt is a killer, he decides, pushing himself into the kitchen. A cup of hot chocolate to warm him up-- he shouldn’t feel so cold. After that, he lays on the couch and ends up dozing off there. And- although he dreams of a life not his own, with adventures he’s never been on, things too fantastical to be real- it is a peaceful sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as an example piece for a zine I applied for. Anyway, I enjoyed writing this, and yeah it's a wee bit canon divergent but also.


End file.
